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Boycott Oprah's Book Club to Protect Literary Variety

Published: The Houston Chronicle, 9/97

Has anyone escaped the news of Oprah Winfrey's book club? Each month for the last year, the effervescent queen of talk TV has chosen a novel (not a romance or potboiler, but a work of highbrow contemporary fiction) for her viewers, who are given an opportunity to purchase and read the book. About a month later, the bubbly cult-mistress of daytime pop then presents a taped profile of the author and a book club "discussion" of the work.

The astonishing result? So far, all eight selections have become instant bestsellers. The first, The Deep End of the Ocean by Jacquelyn Mitchard, had already sold a respectable 100,000 copies when Winfrey chose it; following the selection, it quickly sold another 750,000.

Likewise for the other titles in the series -- Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison, Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi, Songs in Ordinary Time by Mary McGarry, and The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton. These and other titles all sold thousands of additional copies following their selection.

Winfrey's ability to create bestsellers is unparalleled in modern publishing. It is a good thing, or should we be slightly troubled?

As the genial hostess of television chatter tells the story, her on-air book club began as an experiment. She wasn't sure her viewers would be interested in serious fiction. Nonetheless, Winfrey has accomplished what a stadiumful of English professors could only dream of doing -- she's made reading serious fiction popular.

On the other hand, perhaps Winfrey's 750,000 followers aren't actually reading the books. Or if so, perhaps they don't understand what they're reading. So say the critics. I, however, would never make that claim. Why not give Winfrey's viewers the benefit of the doubt?

If there is a criticism to make, it is that Winfrey's viewers seem to so blindly follow wherever she leads. And she doesn't lead very far. Even a cursory glance at her selections demonstrates that she has carefully chosen novels that are sure to appeal to her audience.

All but one of Winfrey's selected authors have been women; the lone male, Wally Lamb, wrote She's Come Undone from a female point of view. As one commentator noted, Winfrey's selections "cover a range of emotional territory that defines contemporary American literature at its most expressive and -- no coincidence -- its most female-friendly."

It remains to be seen whether Winfrey will expand the scope of her book club to include the true diversity of styles, voices and viewpoints found in contemporary literature. With the exception of some racial diversity that's already present, my guess is that it won't happen -- and herein lies the most obvious danger of Winfrey's book club.

With her uncanny power to create bestsellers, now firmly established after a year, Winfrey has been transmogrified from a harmless cheerleader of mainstream fiction into a powerful gatekeeper at the house of modern publishing. As long as Winfrey's influence continues, publishers will take heightened interest in those works that have a shot at her book club, while losing faith in those that don't.

Anyone who doubts Winfrey's effect on the publishing world should consider the case of Sheri Reynolds. Her publisher rejected her second novel following the lackluster sales of her first, The Rapture of Canaan. All this changed when Winfrey selected Canaan for her book club. After Reynolds' novel became another instant bestseller, seven publishing houses offered her a contract on her previously rejected second work.

This sort of power concentrated in one person -- Oprah Winfrey, no less -- makes creative types uncomfortable. Though never intending it, the executive chieftain of midafternoon psychobabble has become, in effect, a censor. It's the result of the fact that she's hamstrung by her audience, whose tastes and interests reflect contemporary American culture at its least subversive.

What's the solution? Ironically, if you share Winfrey's love for contemporary literature, you should demonstrate this love by refusing to participate in her book club. Not only will this sap her of her power, but it will send a clear message to publishers that an enthusiastic support for divergent voices is the bedrock principle of a thriving artistic community. This is a message that publishers need to hear.

As does Winfrey, in the end. Which leads to a final question: now that the supreme arch-duchess of video glitz has lured her viewers away from their televisions and into the bookstores, will she go the extra step and counsel them to let go of their TV sets completely?